
ASTE 



N ALLEGORICAL PLAY 



GAIL 



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By 
WI L S O N 



RAND McNALLY & COMPANY 

CHICAGO NEW YORK 






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WASTE 

AN ALLEGORICAL PLAY 



By 

GAIL WILSON 



RAND McNALLY <& COMPANY 

CHICAGO NEW YORK 



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Copyright, IQIQ, by 
Rand McNally & Company 



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ACKNOWLEDGMENT 

Reproduced through the courtesy of the War Informa- 
tions Department, Woman's Committee, Council of 
National Defense, Illinois Division. 







FEB -8 1919 






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H. 

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WASTE 

An Allegorical Play 

Written by Gail Wilson for the War Information 
Department, Woman's Committee, Council of National 
Defense, Illinois Division. 

Reproduced through the courtesy of the Department. 



PERSONS OF THE PLAY 

The Master Tool Maker of Earth 

The Defender of America, a khaki-clad private of the United 
States Army 

Waste, a fashionable youth of the cabaret type 

[These three are creatures of the thought-world, and when Waste 
descends into the world of men, he is, of course, unseen and un- 
heard by physical eyes and ears.] 

Johnny Cook, a Boy Scout 

Mrs. Cook, Johnny's mother, a housewife 

A Neighbor Woman 

LuciLE, eighteen years old, pretty, thoughtless, spoiled 

Dorothy, Lucile's chum, the same type 

"Aunty," Lucile's aunt 

Andrew Philip Haines, father of Lucile, railroad official and 
owner of large tracts of unused land in the Northwest. 



WASTE 

Time : Now 

Place: Acts I and III, in the realm of Thought 

Act II, in the American Home — perhaps yours 

ACT I 

Scene i : A corner of the shop of the Master Tool Maker at 
the top of the world. Models and blue prints everywhere, but 
everything arranged in perfect order. The Tool Maker is busily 
engaged in checking over orders. He stops at one, his pencil in 
the air. 

Master: There's not enough material to fill this 

nation's order. 

[Enter the Defender of America. His eye is caught by one of the 

ships' models.] 

Defender: What have you here? 

Master: A dreadnaught for a model. It is mirrored 
on the seas of earth and carries forty thousand tons. 

Defender: And this? 

Master: A superdreadnaught. 

Defender: This? 

Master: A submarine to undershoot the superdread- 
naught; and beside it, almost finished, is the submarine 
detector and destroyer. It is not completed, for the 
people ordering have not sent up enough material. 

Defender: Is that the model of a rifle's shell? 

Master: It is, and close beside it is a marvelous 
healing substance that will soothe the jagged, shell-torn 
flesh and make it grow anew. And here 's the model of a 
thousand million bandages to bind the broken human 
forms that fall beneath the rain of lead. I make all things 



4 WASTE 

that man desires, and it were well that he were careful 
in his wishing. 

Defender: It were well that man were careful in his 
wishing. I must needs have greater armies, navies, and a 
fleet of flying things to guard my country and the cause 
we've taken up. 

Master: Your country is — 

Defender: America. 

Master : I had your order entered ere you came. 

Defender: When will it be completed? 

Master : I know not. Materials come so slowly from 
yoiir land. 

Defender: I cannot understand. We are the richest 
land in all the world. We have enough of everything, 
that's needed. 

Master: But it does not reach my workshop to be 
made up into tools with which to fight. 

Defender: Why not? I do not understand. 

Master: All I can do is use the stuff the people send 
to make the tools they wish. If such a people as your 
own will harbor the arch slacker, Waste, you cannot hope 
for victory. 

Defender: I will intern the traitor — nay, destroy 
him. 

Master : Rather would it wiser be to win him to your 
cause; persuade him that you need his best, so he will 
change the thing that 's thrown away into some thing that 
serves. Your country is too rich, too careless of the 
little things of life that are so big. And you have wished 
to seem thus careless and extravagant so that the world 
outside would look with envy on your wealth. And now 
you pay the price. You cannot yet command the means 



WASTE 5 

to make the tools with which to wage the war your 
newly wakened conscience bids you enter. It is ever 
thus with those who live too long in peace and plenty, 
all forgetful of the rest of earth. 

Defender: What shall I do? I must protect the 
honor of my land. I must uphold her pledge to do her 
part in winning freedom for the world, else she will fail 
in her great destiny to be the mother of the coming 
race. 

Master: It is within your power to win if you but 
use the forces hitherto thrown in the discard, for your 
adversary knows the value of the wastage. He it is 
whose orders I am filling now. [Motions off stage to 
remainder of workshop.] Materials always come from 
Germany. They throw no thing away that can be 
utilized. They know and heed the law of conservation. 
You must learn it. If you win your wastage back to 
service, you will win the war, for Right Compassion fights 
beneath the flags allied in France, but even Love cannot 
avail in battle if the soldier in the ranks is hungry, cold, 
or lacking ammunition. [Turns hack to his bench.] I 
have spoken. I must be about my labor. 

Defender: He is right. It is the maladjustment. 
There's the food thrown in the garbage can; the wasted 
forest trees, burned in the clearing, that would warm the 
freezing thousands in the winter. Men and women 
spend their efforts hither, yon, in useless things. They 
go their separate ways, not caring whether other men 
and other women, even little children, hold the line for 
them. It is not well. I must find Waste, the slacker, 
and he must be shown the way to usefulness. 

[Enter Waste.] 



6 WASTE 

Waste: Where is the Master Maker of the Tools of 
Earth? I have a bit for him. A lady whom I serve 
dismissed her third attendant and the butler's helper, and 
I bring a coin thus saved. 

Defender: Who are you? 

Waste: I'm the surplus of the things possessed by 
him that has. I am the unsown seeds. I am the weeds. 
I am the chauffeur waiting all the day to serve his master 
ten full minutes. I am. all the tons of coal burned up to 
make the lights that throw a liquor advertisement far 
across the city, while the homes must go without and 
cannot even buy for money. 

Defender: Ah, then, you are — what I want. 

Waste : You want me ? No one ever wanted me, ex- 
cept that he could boast he 'd thrown me out. 

Defender: The times have changed. I need you. 

Waste: Ha! I'm always needed where I'm not, 
and useless where I am. If I were where I'm not, I'd 
not be I. 

Defender: Are you contented as you are ? Remem- 
ber, this is the transition time. All things are changing. 
Even I, who ever held that I should never cross the seas, 
chafe at the lack of ships that holds me back, for now I 
know our welfare is not separated from the fate of France, 
of Italy, of Belgium, and of England. If they fall, we 
fall. 

Waste: Do you expect to take me seriously? I say 
— I — I'm not used to that you know. I'm just the 
breakfast food that Johnny wouldn't eat and mother 
threw into the sink. I don't amount to much. I 
shouldn't be of any use to you, you know. 

Defender: That self -same moment, in a shell- 



WASTE 7 

wracked cave, a little spark of human life that 'had been 
kept against all odds for future France went out for want 
of you. 

Waste : Oh, I say now, don't make me out a murderer. 

Defender: What else are you? 

Waste: Well, I don't know exactly. I suppose I 
never thought, but I don't want to be that thing. It's 
just because I never thought. 

Defender: Well, then, think now. 

Waste: I can't, if folks won't think. 

Defender (after a moment's silence) : That's it. The 
people must be made to think, and you must help me. 

Waste : Why, I never helped. I never had to work. 
I don't know how. 

Defender: Then learn. The order has gone forth 
to work or fight, and you are commandeered. Why not 
accept the ultimatum gracefully? 

Waste: Of course I'll do it gracefully, but where 
shall I begin? 

Defender: That is your problem. All that I have 
asked is that you save yourself, and in the saving help 
me save my country and the other countries, her allies. 
The Aryan race will fail if they are lost. 

Waste: Then Fm of some importance after all! I 
never thought of that. 

Defender: Be on your way! The Master Maker 
who must build our ships and cannon, who must clothe 
and feed our fighting men, cannot deliver all our order 
until you return to service. 

Waste : I will go and see what I can do. [Exit.] 

Master: He will return. Already I am figuring the 
added raw material with which to build. 



8 WASTE 

Defender: Then there is hope? 

Master: Yes, there is hope, but days are precious. 
We still dwell in time and space, and those who 've fought 
so long are worn and weary, though unflinching. Pray 
that every force in all America be mustered swiftly to 
the colors, most of all the slacker just gone forth to seek 
his own redemption. 

Defender: I do pray! My every wish and thought 
and aspiration is a prayer sent up to Heaven's portals 
that my people will awaken, that we shall not fail in 
this great privilege to ser\-e. This is my prayer. 

[Curtain.] 



ACT II 

Scene i: A typical city back yard. At back stage right is the rear 
of a dwelling with steps down to the ground. A walk {board, or 
stone, or just a path) leads across back stage to left entrance, where 
is the garbage can. A board fence runs along back of stage sepa- 
rating yard from neighbor's. Waste is sitting cross-legged on 
ground, left down stage, with his back to audience, watching 
garbage can. 

Waste: There's lots of me in that old can. I feel 
it in my bones. 

[Enter Johnny, the Boy Scout, with roll of posters under his arm.] 
Waste {aside): Here comes a helper! 

[Scout unrolls posters and proceeds to put them up on fence, whistling 
and talking to himself as he works. He has a hammer and tacks, 
and takes his work very seriously. Waste is, of course, unseen 
and unheard.] 

Johnny : Now, maybe I '11 get called for this, but every 
one of 'em must be put up. 

[By this time he has the first one up. It reads in big letters: 



WASTE 9 

Food Will Win the War 
But Whose Food? 
Germany's or Ours?] 

Waste (aside) : Well, that's a himimer! 

Johnny: I'd just like to know how Mother's going 
to 'member all the things if I don't put these here where 
she can see 'em when she 's working. 

Waste (aside) : He must be the younger brother of the 
man I met back in the Tool Maker's shop— same kind 
of uniform. I rather like that color, and I should n't 
mind one for myself. 

[Johnny puis up second poster which reads: 
Give Your Garbage Grease 

TO the 
Government for Glycerine] 

Johnny: Most folks don't know that every bit of 
dirty grease is worth something for dynamite and 
'splosives and such like, and my! we have to have a lot. 

Waste (dancing with excited pleasure) : That boy can 
give me pointers on the way to make folks think. Now 
all I have to do is make the housewife read it all. 

[Johnny puts up third poster, nearest garbage can. It reads: 

One Ton of Garbage 

fed to the hogs will yield 

100 Lbs. of Pork 

keep your garbage free from broken crockery 

and other rubbish] 

Johnny: There, now, that's done. I'll put the 
others down the alley fence and let the neighbors see. 
[Exit Johnny through alley gate. Waste is viewing the posters with 
intense interest, when Johnny's mother, Mrs. Cook, the house- 
wife, enters. Comes down steps with garbage pan. She starts down 
walk, looking straight ahead. She has on near-sighted glasses. 



10 WASTE 

Waste is fearful lest she miss the signs. He skips up to the first 
poster, pointing to it frantically and beckoning her to look.] 

Waste {to Mrs. Cook, but unseen by her) : See, see, 

what Johnny did! 

[A lock of hair has fallen down on her left temple, and Mrs. Cook 
pauses, rests pan on right hip, puts up lock with left hand and as 
she turns her head she sees poster. Goes closer to read.] 

Mrs. Cook: Well, look what Johnny's done! I s'pose 
his teacher had him put that up. He 'd do most anything 
she said. 

Waste {to Mrs. Cook and pointing to pan) : Look at 
that bread you've thrown away! 

Mrs. Cook {looking down) : Well, now, I really 
oughtn't throw away a crust of bread like that. [Holds 
up half slice.] I s'pose in Europe now they're starving, 
and unless we send 'em all the wheat we can — who knows ? 
But I can't use this now. [Drops it back in the pan.] 

Waste {to Mrs. Cook) : Don't throw that bread away ! 
Help me to save myself so I can wear a khaki uniform. 

Mrs. Cook: You know, I'll just put that aside and 
let Mis' Dusenberry feed it to her chickens. They can 
make good use of it, and I won't let Tom be so wasteful 
after this. [She turns back and puts the bread in a tin 
pie pan sitting on the back porch. Waste claps his 
hands.] 

Waste {aside): Well, this is jolly! If she'll see the 
others, it will be a fine day's work. Most housewives 
are near-sighted when it comes to saving me. They'll 
have to look lots sharper. 

[Mrs. Cook has come down steps again and starts down walk, looking 
straight ahead. Waste stands beside second poster.] 

Waste {to Mrs. Cook): Here's another! Look! 



WASTE II 

[Just then on the other side of the fence rises a neighbor woman's head, 
boudoir-capped and spectacled.] 

Neighbor: Good morning, Mrs. Cook. 

Mrs. Cook: Good morning. Here's another of those 
posters Johnny's putting up. I'm that near-sighted I 
can't tell 'em off a ways. 

Neighbor: What does it say? 
[Mrs. Cook looks carefully at poster and tells her neighbor.] 

Mrs. Cook: It says to give the Government your 
grease for glycerine. [She looks down at the pan in her 
hand.] 

Neighbor: Now, who would ever think that they 
could use just everything? 

Waste {pointing to contents oj pan) : The scrap of 
bacon rind! And see that bit of lard! 

Mrs. Cook: Yes, that's just it. Who'd think that 
they could use what everybody throws away ? 

Waste {aside) : That 's what Defender said I had to 
do. He said I had to make folks think. She's thinking. 
I'm succeeding fine! 

Mrs. Cook: I know what I will do. [Neighbor 

woman's head disappears. Mrs. Cook is intent upon 

her garbage pan.] I '11 take that can that has a cover on 

and put it right beside the steps. 

[She goes up steps, off stage, brings back can, sets it near steps. Waste 
follows to the steps and watches developments.] 

Mrs. Cook {continuing) : And I '11 just try to keep the 
greasy garbage all in that, and Uncle Sam can have it 
for his glycerine and other ammunition. It takes such 
awful quantities. If all the women did it, 't would 
amount to something. 

Waste {delightedly) : Now she 's thinking. She is 



12 WASTE 

overstepping, though. She does n't have to separate 
the grease herself. If she'll just see the next one! Oh, 
I'll see what I can do. 
[Mrs. Cook has transferred several scraps of fat and bacon to new 

can with aid of stick. She starts hurriedly toward garbage can 

again.] 

Mrs. Cook: I must hurry. All this time I've spent 
in fishing out the waste — 
Waste (a5i(i^): That's me! 
Mrs. Cook: and all my work not done! 

[Waste has skipped down to the last poster, which is nearest the garbage 
can.] 

Waste {aside) : If I can land her for this slogan, too, 

I 'm some instructor. 

[Mrs. Cook walks straight down walk, and Waste sees that no ordi- 
nary inducement will make her look. As she comes opposite 
poster, he stoops and trips her. She stumbles and spills pan, 
and its contents scatter over the ground. She falls toward fence, 
and puts out her hand to catch herself, and is face to face with 
poster.] 

Mrs. Cook {with a little scream): Ooh-o-oh! [Her 
eyes are caught with words. Reads:] "One ton of gar- 
bage fed to hogs will yield one hundred pounds of pork." 
Well, who'd 'a' thought o' that, now? [Reads further:] 
"Keep your garbage free from broken crockery and 
other rubbish." [She straightens herself up and looks 
down at garbage spilled all around.] There's that broken 
teacup. Now, I should n't ever put such stuff as that 
into the garbage. It surely would get stuck in piggie's 
throat. And Mildred threw those needles from the 
phonograph into the pan! She oughtn't ever do a thing 
like that. If Uncle Sam can raise some pork on what I 
throw away, I surely ought to keep it clean. The paper 



WASTE 13 

said to * ' keep your garbage clean. ' ' It sounded silly then, 
but now I see. 

[By this time she has scraped up the garbage, and found an old pan 
hidden behind the big can into which she puts broken cup. The rest 
goes into the garbage can. She starts up the walk, swinging 
the empty pan. Waste pulls his handkerchief out of his pocket, 
mops his brow, sits down center stage, cross-legged, facing the 
audience.] 

Waste: That's hard enough, but something's work- 
ing in my blood. I'll wear that khaki uniform before 
I 'm through ! 

[Mrs. Cook is just entering the house.] 
[Curtain.] 

Scene 2 : Sun parlor of the summer home of Andrew Philip Haines, 
in one of the exclusive suburbs of a great city of the Middle West. 

Lucile and Dorothy are knitting pretty-colored sweaters for them- 
selves. Aunty is reading the afternoon paper. Waste is perched 
on high, watching. 

Waste {speaking to himself) : Their Uncle Sam needs 
all that wool. I'll have to start some thinking here, 
that's sure. The soldiers die and die! Exposure in the 
trenches, on the marches, and the wounded lying cold and 
sick in all the countless hospitals, and yet these women 
knit and knit, just for themselves! 

Lucile {holding up her sweater) : I saw the swellest 
one this morning on the links — a lavender with belted-in 
effect of white and just the swellest edging at the throat 
and armholes, and — 

Dorothy: When I get through with this one I am 
going down and get acquainted with an expert knitter 
at the Red Cross. She can make the cutest shoulder to 
a sweater, but she would n't show me — not unless I used 



14 WASTE 

their wool and turned it back to them, so I'll just knit 
for them enough to learn, and then — 

Waste {pulling his hair in despair) : How can I get 
a wedge in? Selfishness and vanity! 

Lucile: I wonder if they're going to wear those 
darling little woolen knitted cuffs and collars on the frocks 
this fall? 

Waste {aside) : Another of my silly horrors for a fad ! 

Lucile: Now I have only two sets. If they're going 
to be the thing, I'll need some more — one set at least for 
every dress. 

Waste {aside) : No chance for socks for tired soldiers 
here. 

Dorothy : And wouldn't it be cute to have the woolen 
flowers on the hat to match? 

Waste {aside) : Ye gods ! 

Aunty {reading) : I see that Betty Ralston's going 
to marry Harold Woods. He's just, a private, is n't he? 

Waste {aside): Maybe there's something in that 
paper, if she'd only see it. [Skips lightly over and looks 
over Aunty's shoulder.] 

Dorothy: Yes. Who'd want to marry just a pri- 
vate? If I could n't land a captain — at the very least 
a first lieutenant ! 

Lucile : I should say as much — 

Waste {to Aunty, pointing to another column in paper) : 
Read that! Read that! 

Lucile: At least a second. Donald Glenn's a 
second, and — 

Dorothy: Oh, yes! You think that anything that 
Donald is just must be right. I wouldn't set my cap 
for him. His father 's losing all his money. 



WASTE 



15 



Lucile: I don't care. He's handsome in his uniform 
and may be he will be promoted. 

Dorothy : Maybe ! 

Aunty: Dear Lucile! How can 3^ou speak so? 
Donald has n't yet proposed — or has he? 

Lucile : Aunty, please don't be so personal. 

Waste (to Aunty) : Read that! Read that! There's 
an example. See? 

Dorothy (laughing, slightly sarcastically) : Your 
Aunty does n't know that it's a toss up — Mary Winton 
or Lucile. 

Lucile : Oh, Mary Winton ! She 's — she 's not pretty 
and I heard she had to go to work. Poor thing ! 

Waste (aside) : They sneer at work ! And think what 
England's women and the French have done! These 
dolls shame even me. 

Dorothy: Who knows? Perhaps they'll try it in a 
cottage. 

Aunty (who has finished one column and turns to next) : 
Here's an item about Mary now: "Miss Mary Winton, 
daughter of Mrs. So-and-so, like many other daughters 
of our best and oldest families, has finished with her busi- 
ness course and goes into the office of the Winthrop 
Arsenal. She follows the example of her English cousins, 
who have done munition work since war began. This 
venture is of special interest as — " Well ! 

[Silence for a minute.] 

Lucile: Go on! 

Dorothy: Oh, dear! Please put an end to the 
suspense. 

Aunty (clearing her throat) : "As her engagement to 
Lieutenant Donald Glenn is just announced." 



i6 ' WASTE 

[A longer silence.] 

Dorothy: Lieutenant! Must have been promoted 
rather suddenly. 

Lucile: I told you he would be promoted. [Exits, 
banging door.] 

Waste (aside): Now, she'll waken. 

Aunty: Poor, poor dear! I knew he was the fickle 
kind. She is so young, poor dear, it is a shame ! 

Waste (to Aunty): Read on! 

Dorothy: What else? Or was that all the paper 
said? 

Aunty: No, it goes on to say the romance started 
when he saw her great devotion to the work among the 
foreigners. 

Dorothy: You know she worked at the Exemption 
Board and talked to all those dirty men, so ignorant they 
couldn't understand the — what is it? — the questioner. 

Waste (to Aunty) : She means the questionnaire. 

Aunty : You mean the questionnaire. 

Dorothy: Yes, yes, that's it. 

Aunty : My poor Lucile ! I' 11 go and take her motor 
riding. 

[Exit Aunty, leaving paper. Dorothy sits gazing straight ahead 
in deep study. Her knitting is idle beside her.] 

Waste {aside): See, the leaven's working. Didn't 
know that the example came so close. It hit them where 
they lived. I'm doing fine this afternoon. 

Dorothy: Poor Lucy! She was surely fond of him. 
It's mighty hard to be in love and have your rival win. 
And Mary isn't near as pretty as Lucile, and doesn't 
care one bit about her clothes. It must be brains. 

Waste {aside) : And her devotion. 



WASTE 17 

Dorothy: Maybe it's — what's that the paper said? 
[Reaches for paper.] ''Devotion to the work." Yes, 
that's the thing that did the trick. [Throws paper 
aside.] 

Waste (aside) : I 'm changing all around inside of me. 
First thing you know I'll get that khaki suit. This girl, 
you see, she's selfish still but she's beginning now to 
know what 's really best for her. 

[Dorothy picks up sweater, puts it carefully in knitting hag.] 

Dorothy: I don't suppose that Mary'd take the 
time to knit a pretty sweater for herself. 

Waste : Nor would she take the wool. 

Dorothy: And there's the wool, too. Maybe — I 
don't know — [Exit with knitting.] 

Waste: That paper's done a lot of good. I hope 

they'll leave it there. I've got those girls to thinking. 

That's the thing. Defender knew if everyone would 

think, even the selfish ones would work. 

[Enter quietly Lucile. Her eyes are rather red. She goes straight 
for the paper and reads article for herself. Her sweater is still 
lying where she left it. Waste watches her closely.] 

Waste {aside): She'll read it all clear through. I 

need n't do a thing. 

[A step is heard. Lucile throws paper aside. Aunty enters, dressed 

for motoring.] 

Aunty: Lucile, my dear, I have been looking every- 
where for you. Come, dearest, we'll go motoring. I've 
called the car. 

Waste {to Lucile, pointing to sweater) : There 's 
something you've forgotten. 

Lucile {picking up sweater and regarding it thought- 
fully): Aunty, what's an afghan? 



i8 WASTE 

Aunty: I don't know for sure. Some kind of 
knitted coverlet, I think. 

Lucile: And don't they make them out of colored 
yam? 

Waste {aside) : I told you she was wakening. 

Aunty: Yes, I beheve they do, for children's cradles 
and for invalids. What 's on your mind? 

Lucile: I thought I'd try to make one. 

Aunty: Yes? For whom? 

Lucile: I'd send it to the Belgian children, or I'd 
give it to the charities. 

Aunty: Lucile, whatever is the matter with you, 
dear? I hope that you won't pine and fret and show 
your feelings about Donald jilting you! 

Lucile: He didn't. 

Aunty: You mean that you refused? 

Lucile : I mean he had a right to take the best, and 
Mary does war work and tries to help and — I — I'm 
not much good, I guess. 

Aunty : Lucile ! 

Waste {to Lucile): You're just beginning to be valu- 
able, Lucile. 

Lucile: I mean it. You're afraid I'll breathe a 
microbe, so .1 could n't be a Friendly Visitor and help 
that way, and Father thinks I 'd bring disgrace upon the 
family if I went out and learned what's really going on. 

Aunty : Lucile ! 

Lucile: And then, I've just been selfish. Never 
thought. 

Waste {aside): She's wide awake at last. 

Aunty: Come, get 3^our coat. I've called the 
chauffeur, dear. A spin will do you good. 



WASTE 



19 



Lucile: I'd rather not. I've something here to do. 
You take the spin alone. Please. There 's a dear. 

Aunty: Where is that car? It should be here by 
now. I'll call again. [Exit.] 
[Lucile starts to unravel sweater and wind yarn. Enter Dorothy.] 

Dorothy: What are you doing? 

Lucile : Wool is scarce — 

Waste {aside to Lucile) : Go to it, partner! 

Lucile : And I couldn't ever wear out all the sweaters 
that I 've made already, so I 'm going to make an afghan 
out of two, and— Dorothy, you go out motoring with 
Aunty. There 's a dear. 

Dorothy : I won't ! I mean I 'd rather stay with you, 
and you can show me how. 

Waste {aside) : They won't make afghans long, but 
that's a dandy start. 

[Enter Aunty, excited.] 

Aunty : Lucile ! 

Lucile: Why, Aunty, what's the trouble? 

Aunty : Gone ! 

Dorothy: What's gone, and why? 

Aunty: The chauffeur! 

Lucile: Where? 

Aunty {now quite red in the face) : To work or fight. 

Waste {laughs and dances with joy) : Another part 
of me is done. Two jobs in one. 

Aunty: They made him go. What is this country 
coming to? 

Waste {aside to Aunty) : It 's coming on to victory, 
my lady, at this rate. 

'Lucile: Oh, Dorothy, you be a chauffeur. You can 
drive, and I '11 get Dad to try you out. ♦ 



20 WASTE 

Aunty : Lucile ! 

Waste (aside) : A corker ! 

Dorothy: That's a go! Oh, that's a corking stunt! 

Aunty : Lucile ! 

Dorothy: And I can wear a darling of a uniform! 

Waste (aside) : That does the trick. 

Lucile : You surely can. 

Aunty : Lucile ! 

Lucile: And you'll look simply stunning. 

Waste (aside) : Kindergarten stage of service — 

Dorothy : Maybe I can get my picture in the paper. 

Waste (aside) : but she 's growing. 

Aunty : Dorothy ! Lucile ! 

Lucile (oblivious of her exclamations) : They '11 grab it 
for the Woman's War Time column. 

Aunty : Dorothy, you wouldn't — 

Dorothy (ignoring her): Great! Lucile, my dear, 
you're simply great! But say, Lucile, about yourself? 

Lucile : You wait ! 

Aunty: Lucile, you won't do anything ridiculous? 

Waste (to himself) : I see right now I 've got to stick 
around awhile. 

Dorothy: Old Stingy! Tell me now. 

Lucile: I won't. It's up my sleeve, and hasn't 
slipped into my hand just yet. You wait! You'll know 
to-morrow. Then you'll see! 

Dorothy (with baffled curiosity and admira- 

Aunty (her last gasp as she sinks in chair 
exhausted) : 

Waste (aside): She's simply great! 

[Curtain.] 



WASTE 21 

Scene 3: The next day. Scene same as Scene 2. Waste is perched, 
up on some piece of furniture. Andrew Philip Haines is 
reading his paper and smoking. 

Waste {with pencil and paper, figuring) : I had to 
stick around this place another day. Too much to finish 
up in one. It's hard to figure how to get that man to 
thinking. He owns timber lands, and fertile valleys, 
lying idle, and a lot of people could be found to work them. 
But the transportation is a problem. Still he knows a 
lot about the railroads. [Looks at Mr. H. perplexedly.] 
He 's as hard a proposition as I Ve had ! Trouble is, he 's 
never missed a meal. He doesn't know what thirst and 
hunger are. He never had to lie in No Man's Land, his 
wounds iindressed for hours and hours, without a drop 
of water; then be carried back and back, and then lie 
weeks and months and have his food all counted out to 
him in calories, and know the nurse that's waiting on 
him hasn't had an appetizing meal in years. [Gets up 
and looks over shoulder.] Wonder what he's reading. 
Huh! I might have known it! Worrying about the 
fate of his pet railroad, now that Uncle Sam is busy. 
[Enter Lucile, knitting a gray sock.] 

Waste (aside) : Ha! I knew the afghan wouldn't hold 
her long. 

Lucile: Daddy, want a chauffeur? 

Father: Do I want a chauffeur! Where's there one 
that won't be drafted? 

Lucile: I know one who has no chance of being 
drafted. 

Father: Lame, or halt, or blind, or eighty-five? 

Lucile: Young, strong, and healthy. Eager for a 
job — has driven a great deal, but never had a job before. 



22 WASTE 

Father: Why not? What kind of references can he 
show ? 

LuciLE : They 're good. 

Father: I don't believe it till I see him for myself. 
[Sinks into his paper and cigar again.] 

Lucile: All right. To-morrow. 
[Silence for a minute.] 

Lucile: Daddy, what's a land hog? 

Waste (aside): Bully! 

Father : Hiih ? 

Lucile: What's a land hog? 

Father: Where were you last night? You didn't 
tell your aunt where you'were going, and she worried. 

Lucile: I was out with Dorothy. We went to hear 
a lady talk. 

Father: What lady? Where? 

Lucile: She is an English woman lecturing about — 
a lot of things. 

[Father buries himself in his paper again.] 

Lucile: But, Daddy, what's a land hog? 

Father : If you learned that vulgar phrase from her, 
my dear, you'd better stay at home. That's all I have 
to say. 

Lucile: She only said that there were hardly any 
more in England — that the lovely parks and lawns were 
ploughed and sown, and that there wasn't any idle 
acreage. 

Waste (aside): Gee, she's the swellest little partner! 

She thinks twice as fast as any I 've seen yet. 

[Father pulls hard at his cigar, puts down paper and squares himself 
around.] 

Father: Lucile, look here. 



WASTE 23 

Lucile: Yes, Daddy. 

Father: You're the only child I have — 

Lucile: Yes, Daddy dear, and you're a darling. 

Father: I have worked and thought and planned to 
have things right for you, and I don't want to hear you 
throwing back at me the arguments you hear from 
common trash. 

Lucile: This English woman isn't common. She's 
a lady. In the old days you'd do almost anything to 
have me meet her. 

Father : I suppose so. Times are changing. 

Waste (aside) : They are changing. 

Lucile: Daddy, just before she talked, there was a 
moving picture of Italian soldiers, and before the scene 
that showed them at their mess, these words were thrown 
upon the screen. I won't forget them, ever. [Quotes:] 
"An Italian soldier fights for you. His breakfast, seven 
acorns, dried. What did you throw away?" 

Waste (aside) : The best I ever heard. 

Father (with a forced laugh) : And I suppose you 
think that you can save enough to fill a ship and send it 
off to Italy! A woman's reasoning! 

Lucile: No, not exactly. I've a few more brains 
than that or else I shouldn't be your daughter. 

Waste (aside) : Clever shot I 

Father: You flatterer! 

Lucile: It's true, and now's the time to use what 
brains I have. 

Father: What's coming now? What do you want? 

Lucile: Well, you know. Daddy, you have land up 
north. I saw it once when we were touring. You 
remember? It was beautiful — some timber hills and 



24 WASTE 

lowlands, and you told me that some day it would be 
mine. 

Father: Yes, what of it? 

Waste (aside) : I see the drift, but Father doesn't. 

Lucile: And you said that later on the land would 
rise in price and I'd be very rich. 

Father: That's true. Go on. 

Lucile: I want the land right now. 

Father : Lucile ! 

Lucile : I want to be a farmerette. 

Father: What! You? 

[Waste expresses his hilarity in pantomime.] 

Lucile: Yes, surely. Father. Let me, please. Then 
I could raise enough to be worth while — much more 
than I could .save from breakfasts. 

Father : You? You think that you could run a farm? 

Lucile: Why, Father, I'm no dummy. I would 
hire an expert manager this year, and by the next I'd 
learn myself. 

Father : Whatever put this in your head ? 

Lucile : Oh, I have just been thinking. 

Waste (aside) : Yes, she thought. 

Lucile: Why should that land be idle, when the 
world is starving? Why should you and I grow richer 
while the ones that fight for us grow poorer ? 

Waste (triumphantly) : ) 

Father (questioningly, defeated): j ^ Y- 

Lucile : Besides, it would be great to try my hand at 
work, for all the girls are doing something. Dorothy is 
learning how to do repairing; then you're going to hire 
her. 

Father: What? What's that? 



WASTE 25 

Lucile: Why surely, that was what I tried to tell 
you — that I had a chauffeur for you, and she'd like to 
have you try her out to-morrow, if you will. 

Father: And you, you want to farm! And yester- 
day, or day before at most, you thought of nothing else 
but just good times and clothes, and everything a young 
girl wants, and now — what changed you? 

[A pause] 

Lucile : War, I guess. I just began to change inside. 

Waste (aside) : Same time I did. 

Father: Lucile — you know — it's funny, but it's 
in the air — 

Waste (aside) : You bet it is ! 

Father (continuing) : for I feel different inside myself. 
I sat here reading, worrying about the railroad — not a 
bit good-natured — this old government control has got 
us all. [Stops short.] Lucile, you know I would n't 
trade you off for any boy I know, and just the same I 
always wished that you were you, but that you were a 
boy. But I don't know — I think it would be hard to tell 
a boy how strange my mind begins to reason things. 

Waste (aside to Father) : It is your heart that has the 
upper hand for once. 

Lucile: Oh, Daddy dear, I understand, I'm sure I 
do. 

Father: I know you do, and you're a comfort, more 

than any boy could be. 

[Father smokes again, and thinks. Lucile knits on, waiting for 

him to continue.] 

Waste (to himself) : I 'm queer, I am. Now I am a 
conglomeration of a misspent force. And when this war 



26 WASTE 

has taught the world to use me right, I shan't be I. 
Or shall I? I can't figure out. Now look at him. The 
power he represents is turning — turning to the right. 
(Father lays down cigar.) And I'm as eager as the 
next one is to know what 's going to happen to this part 
of me. Now listen. 

Father: Listen — do you really mean it — that you 
want to farm? 

Lucile: I absolutely do. I mean it, Dad. I'm 
tired of being useless. 

Father: So am I. So just supposing for a lark — -a 
war vacation, don't you know? — we go together, partners 
for a while. We'll put on overalls and dig. 

Lucile: Oh, Daddy, Daddy! Simply great! I al- 
ways knew you were a trump. 

Waste (aside) : I 'm almost through with my work 
here. 

Father: But wait! That isn't all. I couldn't 
stay there always. After you are started and I get a lot 
of exercise, then I will go to Uncle Sam and let him use 
what brains I have in any way he wants. 

Lucile: Oh, then you'll be a dollar man! I'll be so 
proud. 

Father: It's most as good — as good as if you had a 
soldier fighting, isn't it? 

Waste (aside to Lucile) : It 's just as good. 

Lucile: It's just as good. I'm just as proud. For 
you '11 be doing all you can. If everyone in all the whole 
United States does that — 

Waste (aside, exultantly): They will before I'm 
through. I'm off to get the rest. 

[Curtain.] 



WASTE 27 

ACT III 

Scene i: Scene same as Act I. Curtain rises on empty stage. 
Enter Defender. 

Defender: Oho! Where is the Master Maker? 

Master: Here! [Entering from inner regions.] Your 
orders are almost complete. 

Defender : I know. Waste made it possible. He is 
the best recruiter ever known. 

Master: Food, woolen clothing, fuel, grease for 
ammunition, labor, everything is coming now in quan- 
tities. 

Defender: Thank heaven! We can see the light, 
and take our place beside our worn allies. 

[Enter, with skip and hound, Waste in khaki uniform.] 

Waste : Oh ! Whoopee, everybody ! Look a'here and 
see my uniform. 

[Defender turns, salutes, and kisses him on both cheeks, French 
fashion.] 

Waste : I bet you never kissed a garbage can before, 
Defender. 

Master: Man will do full many strange new things, 
and good, before the war is done. 

Defender: War brings a mighty change within the 
heart. 

Waste: That's right. War's just like me. You 
think I'm bad, but there's a lot of good can come if you 
know how to find it. 

Master: War is waste. 

Waste: I never thought of that. 

Defender: Nor I. 



28 WASTE 

Master: Through all the ages, as I serve the wishes 
of all men, both good and bad, I see destruction follow 
in the wake of selfish wastefulness, for hate is bred by the 
unnecessary suffering of living things. 

Defender : And hate breeds war. 

Waste : Sure, anyone knows that. 

Master : Yes, anyone knows that — and then forgets. 
[Defender is inspecting Waste's uniform as an older soldier might 
that of a new recruit in whom he is interested. Master Maker 
goes on ^ith his work.] 

Defender: Your uniform is not complete. Where 
is your belt? 

Waste: I couldn't get it all, and that must be the 
part of me that's all those thousand men in prison. 
Jails and penitentiaries are full of them — all idle, when 
they might as well be doing something good and healthy 
for their Uncle Sam. 

Master {without looking up, musing over his work): 
Hate-breeding institutions! Man will learn in time, and 
then the nations will conserve their moral wastage, too. 

Defender: And there's a button missing! 

Waste: Couldn't help it. That's the sugar in the 
ice cream sodas. Almost everyone forgets, when tired 
and hot, that there's an army in the trenches, tireder, 
hotter, hungrier for sweets than they can ever be. I 
could n't help that button being off just now. 

Defender : You '11 get it sewed on when the mother- 
sister instinct truly wakes, as it has done in France and 
England. 

Waste: Will the captain reprimand me, do you 
s'pose? 

Defender {with his hand on Waste's shoulder): I 



WASTE 



29 



think if he knew all you've done to-day and yesterday, 
he'd recommend you for the War Cross. 

Waste: I say, now! You don't mean that! What 
does the old man say? [Turns quesiioningly to the 
Master Maker.] 

Master {lifting his eyes from his plans) : I say that 
he who brings the hope of victory again to tired fighters 
for the right; who wakens in their eyes new light that 
flashes back the dawn; I say that he is blessed, and he 
may meet, as he goes marching down the roadway singing, 
the White Comrade of the Battlefield. 

[Waste and Defender stand in rapt attention.] 

Waste and Defender {together): Who is He? 

Master: The First Crusader. 

Waste : Tell us further ! 

Master: Watch as soldier after soldier marches on 
and on, from home and factory and field to the long lines 
of trenches. Some there are that loathe to go; and some 
that crave excitement with the lust of killing in their 
hearts ; and there are those that stolidly fight on because 
they know no other path; but here and there is one 
whose spirit breathes the lofty air of gods. His body, 
every act — he gives in duty bound to king and country, 
fighting true and aiming straight, thus drawing peace 
the nearer and fulfilling to the uttermost his pledged 
allegiance to his earthly ties. But in his heart of hearts 
he serves none other than his Captain Christ. To such as 
these, who fight but are above the battle, breeding no new 
hate but paying with their blood the debt of hate, to 
them is given the password to the mystic brotherhood 
of those who know His smile, who see His Star shine 
forth. 



30 WASTE 

[Waste takes off his hat respectfully, and watches Defender. De- 
fender slowly kneels. If possible, just hack of him making 
a background for the two soldiers, a large United States flag 
should descend. Waste takes his cue from Defender, and 
kneels also. The Master Tool Maker bends closer than ever 
over his plans.] 
Defender: O Thou, my Captain Christ, pour down 
the balm of Thy great love upon the hate-torn hearts of 
men. Teach us to know all life is linked and kin, for 
only as we learn the lesson of this tragedy of selfishness 
shall we deserve Thy overshadowing or dare to pray 
for victory. I ask it in Thy name, White Comrade of 
the Battlefield. Amen. 

[Slow Curtain.] 



